


Hunger

by formeldehyde



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, BDSM, Cheating, Daddy Kink, Emotional Manipulation, Gore, Knotting, M/M, Masochism, Mates, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mental Health Issues, Murder Husbands, Murder Kink, Sadism, Self Harm, Stoner Stiles Stilinski, Subspace, Suicide Attempt, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-06-05 14:57:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15173156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/formeldehyde/pseuds/formeldehyde
Summary: Since the nogitsune, Stiles feels insatiable.





	1. Oblivious Submission

it was gentle in the beginning, not noticeable unless you were looking for it. stiles honey eyes, spun from angelic nectar, go wide and pleading. begging in and of themselves when derek's skin slides across his. his head dropping submissively as a gentle but guiding hand finds its way on his back.   
stiles didn't understand the way his baby fawn legs buckled at the sound of peter's voice. or how even chris' calm dominance over the death and horror stitched into the border lines of beacon hills, sent chills down his spine.   
stiles' own blindness toward his submission didn't mean others didn't see. they were wolves, and even before stiles realized, they did. the embarrassment burns his cheeks as he thinks back on the times he knows arousal wafted off his normally lavender scent. their heightened senses picking up on the heavy sweet scent suddenly surrounding stiles' gangly body. he knows they ignore it, writing it off as teenage hormones or anxiety.   
however, it's peter that wants to cradle this. he pokes at the lust within stiles' chest, hiding under frail bones and snow frosted skin. comments under his breath so only stiles hears the, "easy baby" that clouds stiles brain in a choking fog. if the others notice, peter' remark is brushed aside.   
every stern command gave him a nauseating head rush. cherry blush running down his neck. in stiles' obliviousness, derek's blue beta eyed jealousy goes unnoticed. growls too low for human ears that escape derek's lips as peter tugs gently on stiles hair when no ones looking. extended fangs digging and splitting into his tongue as he hears a shaky breath fall out of stiles' lips.  
peter bleeds his own ego, it manifests in finger shaped bruises on stiles' hips and too dark marks covering most of his milky skin. all from holding him back during fights. using stiles' natural submission to protect the boy.  
stiles finally gives in to his desires after pack night. peter had been gently tugging on his outgrown hair, claws extended. the whole night words impure being whispered into stiles' ears.   
"you like pain don't you?" he asked as those claws moved down to the soft flesh of stiles' inner thighs. poking at his skin through his jeans. red hot pleasure coursing through his veins, a broken whimper falling out of parted strawberry red lips.   
"god, you're gorgeous. you know nothing, you just know you need to be controlled. am i right, mieczysław?"  
at the grit in peters voice, whiskey tears fell out of stiles' eyes. he knew others must've heard, he ran rushing out of the loft. sprinkling rain washing over him like holy water.   
the words peter so carefully crafted sounded like prayers, divine commands. stiles' need to submit resulted in his weak knees finally buckling and dropping to the ground in the hallway of peter's building. the aching soreness of his knees resting roughly on the carpet forcing a whine from his throat. his eyes wide and pleasing, barely making out a "please, peter" before he was shoved up against the front door to peter's apartment.  
their lips against each other's were frantic. thunderstorms clashing loudly, echoing through valleys and canyons. and as soon as peter let his canines sink into stiles' lips. the younger boy was gone. desperation bleeding out of his heart, nonsense pouring from his lips as he begged and begged.   
peter smirked. the young boy was a plaything, peter needed to test just how far stiles would go. the limits of the boy's masochism unknown as the werewolf digs his claws into stiles waist and forces the duo inside.   
the look on stiles' face says it all. his cheeks blotchy with blush, eyes watering and red bloody lip trembling as he lets out shaky angelic breaths. "p-peter-"  
"ssh," peters finger slides against stiles lips, holding it there to keep him silent. what he did next, as everything stiles does, was unexpected. his pink tongue darted out of his lips to lick the finger. big bright eyes locking with peter's ice blue irises as he began to suck the older man's finger into his mouth.   
to stiles, legs numb, he felt like he was being baptized. peter's gaze on him like that of something divine and holy. stiles' every instinct blurred by the neediness he felt sinking into his bones. it's so slightly off though, not completely pure not the correct type of divinity. a separate religion from the one of stiles mind as he craves this, yes, but from someone else.   
he should feel guilty as images of black hair and spiral tattoos flood his mind as peter fucks him. the way stiles almost moans "derek" when peter sinks his fangs into stiles' neck as he comes. his eyes watering as he imagines derek seeing peter's mark on stiles' skin.  
it's no less satisfying, the hunger inside him was taunted but entertained with peters sadistic torture of stiles' limits. watching just how deep he can sink his claws until stiles screams. how desperate he can make the boy, how bad he'll beg and give up everything.   
stiles isn't surprised when he wakes to find peter gone. he limped back to the jeep, a gentle numbness surrounding everything he did. his flesh aching as a physical reminder of his transgressions. his mind driven mad with lust.


	2. Remnants

the marks made by peter are not just on his skin. his bites seemed to have hit stiles' bones, claw pricks leaving scars he feels on the surface of his heart. everything about him feels used. and he hates himself for loving it. he feels so comfortable in the blissful void and flashing memories of the hazy night he was leaving behind.   
his neck was the worst. a deep purple, bloody, dried up, messy, bruise surrounded the bite mark peter made. it was so obvious stiles began to get anxious on how to cover it. his pale skin lighting the colors up as beacon, calling attention to the shameful desires of his own masochism.   
yet, even after the void of nogitsune left his brain, he was insatiable. body going through withdrawal of the demon that used to reside within him. like an addict, fixated on the next one who could give him what he once had. the safety in giving up the reins, someone else commanding him. even the pain, the neglect and abuse constantly being dumped on his shoulders. solidifying him in liquid gold. still he craves the sadistic, those reflective of the very thing that ruined his life. that took allison. hollowed out his innocence. he wishes to give up that control, where there was once complete chaos.  
stiles wears hoodies, high necked shirts to cover the evidence of his sin. however, just because something is hidden doesn't mean it can't be seen. stiles reeks of leather and musk- peter.  
stiles is logical, incredibly aware of peter's murderous past and lack of empathy. he knows this won't end well, all stiles is doing is fueling an already soaring ego. adding to the fire that burns underneath peter's skin; promises of vengeance and blood thirst.   
stiles knows his fate should this get out of hand. and he accepts it. allowing this to seep deep inside him. when he was hollowed out as void, he accepted it when he shouldn't have. subconsciously yet present to the nogitsune, he enjoyed the giving up. the threat to his own mortality and his life, allowing indulgence in twisted dreams.   
life will grow anywhere you don't limit it. around the old hale house, vines have taken the walls. and as the cigarette burns between stiles' fingers, he's holding his mortality as a ticking time bomb. breathing in slow poison. it's addictive outside the nicotine. a rush from knowing it could kill, like almost getting hit by a car as you run across a street. deliciously drowned in adrenaline. the same rush as falling to his knees.  
the tobacco eases the hunger within. substituting for the ache of the rejected.


	3. ache

peter did nothing to ease the pains inside stiles' bones. as soon as the bruises faded and the bite on his neck healed, he was hungry.   
the pack never mentioned what happened at the loft, and stiles was thankful. even then, he could feel the weight of their gazes on him. weighing him down almost as much as the memories of peter. the guilt was lead in his blood. guilt of betrayal to those he loved and those who had lost parts of themselves at the hand of the eldest hale. for lydia, who had been tortured slowly by his precise manipulation. for scott, humanity and life stripped down in a flash of peters fangs piercing his flesh. for derek, lost sister and lost friend. peter his best friend before anything else yet this peter, the one preying on stiles, was not him.   
derek was the lead, the true guilt permeated within stiles' mind. his olive eyes looking at stiles just like all those years ago... but as if now, stiles was the abomination. driven mad with lust and falling into a snake pit. wolves knew, the smell of peter was deep in stiles' skin. claimed by bite and come.   
stiles sits on his roof, nursing another cigarette with shaking fingers and bloody lips. he didn't want to be peter's. not logically, not wanting to be seen as less. but he was. he was weak. all the superficial strength he had tried to build through years of pain and fear, melted at peters feet. the submission as stiles is on his knees, willfully ignoring his own pleas to be better than this.   
peter knows better, knows stiles is having an internal battle between morality and desire. he's a smart man, he can see it in the way stiles's lips are hesitant, the way he flinches. peter loves nothing more than to push, to see how far he can go before stiles finally breaks. he's gotten close. he's still working on finding that final button, the way to make the boy forget his shame. it takes peter two weeks of seeing stiles every night before he figures it out.   
"it's derek, isn't it?"   
stiles is tied to the bed, long pale limbs knotted together by crimson red rope. his honey eyes are watering and he's looking at peter with absolute terror. "w-w-what's derek what-how-"  
peter chuckles, sitting next to stiles, running his hands through the boy's hair. "he's what's keeping you away from me. the reason you hesitate to submit...to give up."  
"i-"  
"i'm not mad, stiles. i've been wondering for awhile now. but i understand now." peter begins to untie the restraints on stiles' wrists.   
"why are you-"  
"you're in love. you can't deny it. you can't channel all your feelings into... this."  
"and what is this?" stiles is regaining confidence, which makes peter smile. he knew this would never last, but he thinks he'll miss the way stiles reacts. the way peter could barely even-he pricks stiles' thigh with his claw, making him moan.   
"this is over. but it was me, finding a boy who is willing to put his life on the line for everyone. willfully putting himself through pain, letting someone control him in the way that a demon had once before. submitting his body and mind, and loving every second of it." peter smiles, helping stiles off the bed and into his clothes. "you're the most beautiful masochist i've ever seen," peter presses two fingers against stiles' lips, he quickly sucks them into his mouth. getting them wet with saliva, and then peters claws are making long cuts on his lips. when they kiss, it tastes just like the metal in his blood. that heaviness dripping down his chin and onto the carpet.  
"you're gorgeous," peter growled. he knew this; at any time he could press into this deeply reserved part of the boy. test the limits. but for now, he'd let him go.  
"peter," stiles whimpered, fumbling. trying to claw at his chest, bring him back to him. even in the conscious awareness of his desire for derek. but the taste of blood on his lips, the feeling of peters claws slicing his skin, drove him into the madness of lust.   
but before he could let himself fall, peter is stepping away. he's turning away and walking into his room. stiles is shocked. his lips are still bleeding, he's licking it off and he doesn't know what to think. a nearly high buzz is filling his body as he walks back out to his jeep. he doesn't know where he's driving. his mind is filled with visions of fangs, glowing blue eyes, and the feeling of rope burning against his skin.   
he doesn't even realize that the road is ending until the jeep is pulling into the parking lot of the loft.  
the yellow lines, every divided parallel path, leads here. every where stiles attempts to run. into the arms of any lover, he will end up where he is now. standing in front of the large metal door, hands shaking as he remembers every night spent here trying to prevent death and protect life itself. keeping the borders of beacon hills safe. falling in love with every fight and gentle unspoken touches. with the olive forests within derek's eyes.   
his rabbit heart is all he hears when he opens the door.


	4. Why?

he steps into the open space of the loft. derek looks up from the couch. he puts the book he's reading onto the coffee table. the loft seems softer now then it did when derek first moved in. the area seems lived in. it's warmer in every sense of the word.   
he stands up, shoving his hands into his pockets.   
"hey," stiles says in a broken voice. the quiet damn between them severed. "i'm sorry about everything i've been so weird. i know i should be more involved in the pack but i've been really out of it-"  
"stiles." derek says, stern but kind. an auditory reminder of every reason stiles loved him.  
"y-yeah?"  
"it's okay." derek smiled at him, and stiles heart twisted in his chest.   
the smell of peter was stinging derek's nostrils. stiles reeked of unnatural burnt life and sex. it made jealousy bubble in his stomach. he held it back, biting his tongue for stiles wasn't his to own. he couldn't help it, not when stiles adjusted his shirt and he saw the hickeys coating his neck, the dried blood on his lips. "you smell different."  
stiles flushed, ears and cheeks flushing red. "w-what?"  
derek moved closer. hating himself for it. "why him?"  
"it's not about peter i just-since the nogitsune-since the sacrifice-this whole thing is a lot and i can't-i don't-everything's so stressful i-"  
"ssh, hey." derek moved even closer, resting his hand on stiles' shoulder. stiles flinched as pressure caused a burning pain where peter had sunk his fangs into stiles' skin. derek's eyes went wide, quickly retracting his hand. "i'm sorry...what happened?"  
"um-" stiles felt his face turn even redder. he couldn't bear to tell derek what it was, what he had done. he just slowly pulled his shirt down to reveal the bite mark.   
"what the hell? peter attacked you, why-"  
"i let him do it," stiles cut derek off. sinking back into himself in embarrassment. derek would never look at him the same. he'd see stiles as twisted, he'd understand the immorality of his mind. he'd hate him.   
"oh." derek's face revealed no emotion but his mind was racing. he knew there was something...off about the relationship the boy had with his uncle. something dark and manipulative. he had seen the way peter handled stiles, see how he talked down to him, the way stiles bowed his head and flushed whenever peter gave him an order. it hadn't made sense. not until that night when he heard the impure words slip out of peters lips, watch a glassy eyed stiles run out of the loft.  
"i should go." stiles said, turning around. before he could get more than a few feet away, derek was grabbing his arm and pulling him back.   
"why did you come?"  
"i-" he had come to tell derek he and peter were nothing anymore. that derek was all he ever wanted.   
"i'm all you ever wanted?"  
stiles cursed himself for thinking out loud again, tears began watering in his golden eyes and he needed to get out of here. this was so messy so complicated. his mind and heart were racing each other neither knowing what lie beyond the finish line. but stiles looked up, at derek.  
that moment was how he would remember derek for the rest of his life. the soft golden glow painting his skin, coming in from the street lamps outside. his eyes of wintergreen and overcast watering as the words slip out of stiles lips. "i love you." bitter tears stinging honey eyes and the back of his charred throat. he loved him. he loved derek with every bone in his body, every nerve that painted his skin ached for derek's touch.


	5. Moon's Blessing

almost loosing derek was the most terrifying thing stiles has ever experienced. those weeks he believed derek was dead, stiles felt like his heart was eating away at itself. his skin and brain were rotting away in the pain. he never wanted to live in a world without him in it.   
derek stared at stiles for a long time, seconds were days as he let himself understand the measure of stiles' words. and when he finally spoke, his voice was soft and it was broken and it was perfect. "i will love you until the day i die. you're my mate, i never knew when the right time to tell you was... but stiles, it's always been you."  
stiles couldn't help himself, the tears just started falling from his eyes. he crumbled to the floor at derek's feet. the weight of the past years broke like a dam. he could relax, he could forgive now. he could, for the first and last time, be in love.   
derek sat down in front of him, bringing stiles to look at him. their lips met.   
derek was his mate, his forever. every second since scott was bitten, this was meant to happen. the death and destruction brought to his home was all justified by a plan, for two people to cross paths. for derek's lips to press against stiles'. for the rest of their lives to be lived together. stiles would die for derek, he has offered before. with trying to fight the twins, holding him in the pool, the elevator, mexico, all of it. every second, every day, everything, it all lead back to him.  
he moved closer to derek, both now on their knees as stiles wrapped his arms around derek's neck. derek held him by his waist firmly, but with no roughness. stiles felt reborn in his arms, his mind and body in sync with derek's without flaw. he feels the bond, the moon's blessing, in his blood. he can hear derek's heart beating in time with his own.   
"derek," he says in a gasp.   
his eyes go wide with concern, but stiles cuts him off before he even speaks.  
"i-i need to tell you i'm, i can't stop thinking. everything's changed but you're always here. sometimes you're gone and sometimes you're home but no matter what, you're with me. i knew even before i knew. i had this thing, i needed to know you were okay. i never want one day without knowing you're safe and oh god, that you're happy, derek i need you to be happy-"  
"stiles. i've been through hell, i've seen things, my life was ruined by people who told me they loved me. and i'm terrified. but for some reason, with you, i feel safe. you don't have to do this, you don't have to be with me. but i'll always be here for you, i know i've been shitty and i've ignored you and hurt you...but i could spend my whole life trying to make it up to you, if you'd let me."  
stiles felt his heart swell, spilling over in teeth rotting honey. "how could i say no to that?"


	6. Wait

derek's touch is soft and purposeful. his scent is chamomile, rose and redwoods . it's home and love and all things that make stiles heart ache.   
but as the days went on stiles noticed his knees were stable, derek's hands on his bare skin felt like they melted into stiles' body, like they were his own. the bruises from past faded and he could've let it go. trusted in the moon and given his life to derek. his mate, the one who his fate lied with.   
derek loved him and god, did stiles love derek. but he was a self deprecating masochist at best. he craved the pain, couldn't let himself be loved. stiles deserved not one second derek gave him. he wanted the complex torture that comes with peter. missed the fear, the dangerous dance around the point of no return. the delicate line between too far, crossed with fangs and claws.   
he almost called peter the third night. derek was asleep, stiles sat alone on the balcony. his eyes raked over the lights and street signs, longing for something more. for watery eyes and the taste of blood and cum on his lips. he couldn't live his life with this hunger.   
he was about to grab his phone from his pocket when he heard the door open behind him. derek padded out on gentle steps, resting his arms on the ledge next to stiles. and, like always, derek knew exactly what stiles was thinking. "i know this is a lot to handle. i know this isn't what you want," derek said as he laced his fingers with stiles'.  
"i do want this," heartbeat steady.  
"but you want something more too."   
skip.   
"is it peter?"  
skip.   
"okay." derek brought stiles close to him, pressing a slow kiss to his forehead. "it's okay."  
stiles was shaking against derek, holding onto him as support. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry i don't know what's wrong with me-"  
"nothing's wrong with you." derek's voice is genuine but stiles can hear the pain in his voice.  
"and nothings wrong with you-with us," stiles responded. he kissed derek, feeling that chamomile scent flood his nose, feel his skin melting away. his heart beat was steady.   
derek pulled away, running his fingers through stiles' hair. "go to him, go figure yourself and all this out. i'll be here. i'd wait for you forever."   
"i love you, derek."  
"i love you too."  
-

peter's mind was reeling. he knew it was time to let stiles go. give him to derek, the man who loved him, his mate. peter knew his nephew was obviously in love, never admitting it to anyone but himself. but peter had always been observant, he had to be. his goal in life has always been self preservation and not much beyond that. though to keep him on his toes he had to be in constant check of the wolves (and humans and banshees, etc.) surrounding him. even at times of peace between the pack and peter, he had to be one step ahead. the hormonal escapades of the young pack never concerned peter, they were the pawn in this game. but, there was one bump. one terrifyingly brilliant, gorgeous flaw in peter's master plan. and that flaw was miecysław stilinski.

the boy was painfully intricate. as peter found himself digging in the spark's mind, he continued to find more intoxicatingly bizarre aspects of stiles' personality. what lured peter into his honey eyed trap, more than anything, was his own ignorance to it all. so much untouched power and beauty was hiding, clawing to be let loose yet going unnoticed.

the first time peter noticed his attraction toward stiles, he was on his knees. the girl he would've described as the love of his life nearly ripped to shreds on the field. stiles had blood on his sleeves, stark in scarlet splatters against his milky skin, gazing up at peter. his big bambi eyes watering gold. he was beautiful, in the trembling fear on his lips, in his neck bared up at peter- oblivious to its significance. peter wanted him-it was why he thought so frequently of turning the teen. peter still wishes stiles would've said yes, he would have been something extraordinary. not even scott mcccll, the true alpha. could've compared to stiles, to peter's boy. stiles was perfect. ruthless in his loyalty, horrifyingly intelligent, beautifully manipulative and, peters favorite part, a bloodthirst untouched. though his body has killed, his mind was dissociated. his hands were heavier than his heart. despite this, as everything, peter saw further. there was a reason the nogitsune had chosen stiles-it saw the same thing peter did. saw a delicious darkness, something that could hand craft the most deadly predator, even in the gangly limbs of a seventeen year old.

but, stiles being forced into that role, ruined everything. he had no time to adjust, he;d never go back to that now. not after allison- his loyalty and guilt twisted together in the memory of her death.

so, even though peter had told stiles to go to derek, had let the boy he pined for out of his grip, he understood one thing. derek wouldn't be enough for that darkness. derek, though he didn't show it, was far too kind, too focused on morality. stiles would easily grow bored- and he'd end up on peter's doorstep.


	7. In a Week

it only took seven days, a week of watching stiles' unknowingly unsatisfied smiles as derek pressed kisses to his face at pack meetings. one week of smelling his nephew all over stiles' skin, noticing the way their scents began mixing. peter was patient, but it was grueling. stiles' normally lavender and blood aroma masked by a musky rose petal scent, the smell of mates. wolves knew that mates were inseparable, it was for life. peter was well aware of how messy it was about to get and he didn't like getting his hands dirty. stiles did.  
when peter heard a knock at his door, he already knew stiles was there. the rose rabbit heart beat as he rode the elevator up to peter's apartment. the wolf didn't go to the door, never wanting to seem desperate.   
"doors unlocked, miecysław." peter heard the knob turn slowly. the heavy breathing escaping stiles' lips as he stepped inside. "to what do i owe this pleasure, little fox?"  
stiles blushed and, god did peter miss that sight. the boy reeking of embarrassment that beautifully covered rose. "I-uh-I..." he stuttered, peter could see the guilty tears in his eyes. stiles was an open book to peter only could read. expressions and manuerisims sonnets spoke in broken whimpers.  
"i know, stiles, i know." peter called the boy open, waving his hands to point the boy towards him. "knees."  
stiles hesitated, but followed peter's orders as always. walking into the living room, setting on his knees in front of where peter was sat on the couch. stiles' glassy eyes gazing up at him, batting those long lashes innocently.   
"what's wrong?" peter brought his hands to stiles' chin. "you can't hide anything from me, pup."  
stiles whimpered in the back of his throat. "i-"  
"words, stiles."  
stiles relaxed, his back slumping, leaning into peter's touch. his chest flush with peter's calves. head rested on top of the wolves thighs. "derek."  
peter shook his head, letting his fingers rest in stiles' grown out hair. "what about him?"   
"he's too good for me, he deserves to much better. i can't live my life trying to be someone i'm not, just for him. it's not fair."  
"your heart stiles, don't lie to me." peter's voice dropped to a low growl, he heard stiles whisper 'sorry sir' hot against peter's leg, feel his lips move as he spoke the apology. that was all the assurance peter needed to know that he had his boy back. he smirked, using this moment to solidify a hunch he had for years. in the nosing for approval at the hands of authority as he disrespected just that. peter spoke calmly, with stern heart in his gentle words. "baby...tell daddy the truth."  
stiles moved back and looked at peter, desperation and desire to submit. he was crying, and it was beautiful. "i missed you. i-i love derek, he's extraordinary but he's-"  
"he's not fucked up enough," the older man supplied.   
stiles went to retaliate, but quickly shut his mouth. he's obeying. he wants peter he wants- no he needs it all back. he nods and peter smiles.   
"come here baby, daddy's lap okay?" peter spread his legs. stiles sheepishly crawled on top of peter, ducking his head to rest on the wolf's chest. he hummed, peter could smell the salt of his tears and rubbed his back, pulling stiles' shirt down to expose the bite on his neck, eyes flashing blue as he saw a mark he hadn't left. his canines dropped, "mine." his mind flooded with red, going moon blind.  
stiles skin smelled like fear- like arousal.


	8. Natural Born Killer

morning filled stiles head with regret. every second he felt his breath quickening as he realized he reeked with the smell of sex, of peter. he groaned as he felt the aches from last nights bruises come back to him. his neck was on fire, his hips and back were stiff and as he stood up, his legs were jelly. he collapsed onto the floor and peter rushed in seconds later.   
"Baby, let me carry you." Peter grabbed him and walked him into the kitchen. He wasn't even give time to protest, stiles didn't even want to meet his gaze in his state of guilt. he loved derek but he needed peter. he needed him like air and the control he gave was addictive. the 'baby's and 'slut's blended together in a terrifying haze of manipulation that stiles couldn't believe he was being lured into.   
but as peter sat him on his lap in the living room, and stiles curled into his chest, the gentle dragging of peters claws against his inflamed skin were burning like heroin being shot into his blood."peter," stiles whimpered.  
"ah ah ah," a claw dug into the flesh of stiles' thigh, stabbing harshly and causing white hot pain to melt into pleasure. "don't forget my name again, angel."  
"daddy," the younger boys hips rolled against peter's. he bared his neck and gasped. "need you, please."  
peter smirked and yanked his claw out of stiles' leg. he screamed, muffled by peter's quick hand. "shh honey. have a taste," peter extended his bloody finger to stiles' lips, "i know you like this too...the pain you want goes deeper than being slapped around. the hurt you need isn't order it's torture."  
"peter-daddy-i," stiles' eyes began watering but his gaze was hungry as he pulled peters fingers into his mouth, the taste of iron melting against his tongue. behind his eyelids and blurring into his vision, he felt the splatter of blood and brain matter from when he was almost shot in the head, he tasted coach's blood on his palms when the arrow plunged into his stomach. every life he held was bleeding and as void, the blood was hot and beating.   
"more, daddy, i need more." stiles grabbed peters hand and tried to shove his extended claws into his stomach, peter held him back.   
"baby-"  
"daddy you said you would torture me. do it. please please, i need more g-god just give me more i miss it i miss it."  
peter ran his palm over the bleeding gash in stiles upper thigh and let the blood cover his hand until he brought it back to stiles' lips, letting his claws push back out so the boy could prick and cut the end of his tongue with the tips. he was testing stiles; seeing how far he would go before he lost it.   
stiles rubbed his face and lips against peter's hand, covering his mouth with dark red. peter's heart beat quickened as stiles met him with a gaze seemingly feral; what he would do to see this boy as wolf. he would be absolutely beautiful. "you're made for this, pup. you're a killer, stiles let me make you what you need to be."  
stiles stilled, "daddy i-you want to turn me? you're not an alpha-"  
peter growled in defense. "if i can't make you a wolf, i'll just have to make you kill as a human."


	9. god complex

they didn't talk about it for days. it was an unspoken yearning between them both. stiles, for an explanation; peter, for the outcome.   
      the silence was uncomfortable, stiles even felt that peter may have been ashamed of what he said to the boy.   
when the words finally slipped, they were fucking in stiles' bed. his dad was gone and peter wanted to christen the room for them. stiles ignored the nausea he felt in his head when he thought about having peter hale in the sheriff's house. he ignored the disgust he felt towards himself. what would his dad think of him? how horrified would he be to learn his teenaged son was sleeping with a man only a few years younger than himself?   
all those thoughts were put aside when the kissing and groping and biting started. stiles was hazy answering peters prying questionnaire that changed every time they did something new. "this is where you always imagined us isn't it?"  
he couldn't speak, peter was ramming into him from beneath stiles' thighs. he nodded. peter continued.  
"this is where the nogitsune took hold of you. slowly..." peter slowed his pace, rolling his hips into stiles with near tenderness. peter pressed his lips against stiles' shoulder as he slumped against the older man's chest. "this bed is where you couldn't sleep as he infected your mind and your dream." peter extended his claws, dragging them lightly over stiles' back. "where i'm sure you dreamt of blood, death, power. you saw what he wanted."  
stiles was crying before he noticed, wetting the skin on peter's neck with tears. "peter," his hips twitched and pleasure ran through his body, he began grinding slowly against peter again, making the man laugh like a devil.   
"i want you to take back that, pup. i want you to be the killer you were meant to be, not what he wanted you to be." peter said it so sweetly, stiles let himself imagine it.   
peter killed when he needed to, in that way they were the same. but stiles had never killed without thought, not when he was in his own mind anyway. but those months with a fox in his heart, all the blood on his hands and all the nightmares. he knew it wasn't him but that same part of him that needed to be punished for those crimes, felt that it was. he was already a murderer, always had been. he killed his mother, he killed allison, so many people are dead because of him. "i've killed so many people, peter."  
"no you haven't, baby. you don't know what you could be." peter stroked his hair and started fucking into him, making him whine and the tears to flow again.   
"g-god, what could i be?"  
"i'm not god, but we could be. beacon hills isn't big enough for you and me, stiles." peter was turning, glowing ice blue as he grabbed stiles' neck. "let me make you as godly as you could be."


	10. garden of eros

derek hadn't slept in days. the thought of his uncle's hands on stiles was driving him insane. he had punched and tore his way through four punching bags and two walls. he had an anger as hot and intolerable as the rage that was lit inside him when his family died. the pain charred his heart and left him starved and exhausted. he knew that stiles loved him but it didn't feel like it when he was hurting himself so intensely. derek would let stiles kill him but he never wanted stiles to feel pain. that was all his relationship with peter was, it wasn't direct but it was glorified self harm. derek understood it. we want what we feel we deserve, and if stiles wanted peter than derek knew how much he really hated himself, how much he didn't believe he deserved to be happy, or loved.   
      seeing stiles at pack meetings was the worst. his eyes were empty, his neck moved from excessive hickies to deep, fang shaped scars. derek had to excuse himself from his own loft to disappear into the preserve for two days. it made his stomach churn and his wolf wanted nothing more than to claw out peters throat.   
      one night, they were all hashing out territory disputes between a rival pack, making sure the lines were clear. stiles had outlined beacon hills and surrounding areas in red. as he leaned over, his shirt-peter's shirt, which hung off his skinny frame, dipped and exposed stiles neck and most of his chest. the claw marks, deep gashes and bites were bloody and where there were no claw or teeth marks, bruises covered the milky soft skin hidden beneath. derek lunged at peter before he knew what he was doing.   
      his vision was red and peter was down, derek had his hand pinning him up on the wall. half shifted and snarling, he felt his eyes burning with blue ice. "what the fuck did you do to him?" he didn't even look up as he heard stiles start running over.   
      "nothing he didn't ask me to do, nephew." derek tightened his hand around peter's throat and pushed harder. in a strained voice, peter continued, "and nothing that's any of your business seeing as stiles here chose me over you. isn't that right baby?"  
      wolf eyes were all locked on styles, he could feel scott's judgment, lydia's analysis , liam's confusion, malia's rage. he couldn't be here, nor while he watched his friends stiffen like they'd been turned to stone. derek looked like he'd been shattered.  
      "stiles-"   
      "you said it was okay-" he felt his words catch in his throat. "derek, i" he shook his head, "i love you, please don't make me do this."  
      "do what exactly?" scott chimed in, now joining the tension in the middle of the loft. malia and liam trailed behind him like lost puppies and stiles fought malia's gaze. he had loved her once, and the look of betrayal on her face, with her fangs extended but a slight tremor in her hands, made him feel a deep seeded guilt. stiles had been her first boyfriend, he was her crutch to the human world. now lydia was that anchor but stiles still slept with his first girlfriend's biological serial killer father who abandoned her. so it was safe to say he was not on malia's good side anymore, lydia's either. he had nothing to loose.   
      "no need to get all alpha-y, scott. i'm not gonna sit here and watch you all look at me like i'm disgusting!" he screamed, hoarsely.   
      lydia, now off the couch and standing behind malia, demanded "stiles, you're not-"  
      "lydia, you look at me like i'm a fucking piece of shit stuck on the bottom of your expensive shoes."  
      peter snickered behind him and stiles felt his confidence and rage growing. he had peter on his side, he wasn't alone anymore.   
      "stiles," she sighed, "this has nothing to do with you. it's him! and what he's doing to you!"  
      stiles had that deer in a headlights look and he saw the pain in derek's eyes and it made him nauseous with guilt. he looked to peter, derek was going to kill him, he was nearly there. before he could even react, derek was pinning peter to the wall, a loud snarl ripping through the room. stiles stumbled over his fawn legs. "derek!" he screamed, "stop! please, stop!" he ran and grabbed derek's arm, trying to force him off of peter. he managed to wiggle himself in between them and watched as derek's claws barely missed his face. he pulled back, stumbling away from his mate. there were tears, real tears in his eyes. derek had hatred in his eyes, for peter yes, but for stiles too. for not being able to see what derek saw in him. for being too blinded by self hatred that the only person he believes he deserves abuses and manipulates him not to mention what he had done to stiles' friends. his insecurities outweighed his loyalty to anyone, that made derek's stomach churn.  
     peter's hand found stiles', squeezing onto it. derek looked like he was about to throw up and stiles could feel the whole pack's eyes on him, on them. he held onto peters hand tighter. "he! takes care of me. he listens to the shit none of you like to talk about because it's too real for you! none of you ever ask me how i'm doing which is not fucking great, by the way. maybe if you had given a fuck in the first place, we wouldn't be here!" stiles was manic, laughing anxiously in a dead silent room. he couldn't stop himself, the splitting was taking over his mind. "even you, derek! you said you understood but you don't, you said i could figure this out and you wouldn't be pushy. now you're standing here and pushing me away!"   
      derek stumbled back. scott was silent in his offense, lydia looked guilty. her emerald eyes were watering and she took a deep, shaky breath, grabbing her jacket off the couch and slinging her purse over her shoulder. she walked close, between stiles and derek. putting a gentle, hesitant hand on the younger boy's shoulder, visibly avoiding peter's gaze. himself being dragged out of the dead silent loft.  
before they reached the door, scott cut in. "stiles! if you walk out that door with him, you're both out of the pack."  
"excuse me, scotty boy but i am not your beta. stiles, however, is. even despite the fact you all treat him like an omega." peter said in a growl.  
"we do not!" scott screamed in defense.  
      "you do and you know it. what you don't understand is that stiles was never a burden. he was your most valuable player."  
      "was?" scott said, broken.   
      stiles sniffed and tried to ignore the burning pit in his stomach. "yes. was." he let peter drag him out of the loft and as the door slammed, it felt like he lost a limb, like the door cut it off. part of his heart had died. but it would rot and fade into his body, and his heart would belong to peter.


	11. would you?

panic causes bile to burn stiles' throat as he vomits on the pavement. he can't breathe and everything is shaking, earthquakes of his own making cause him to collapse. peter collects him into his arms quickly, carrying him to his car. before peter can even talk stiles begs "peter, i need to go home."  
      "is your dad there?" peter buckles stiles in, holding his hand like it could keep stiles from falling into his own anxiety. he squeezed peters like he was a lifeline, and his earnest eyes begged for something peter had never given to someone before.   
      stiles heaves, nothing comes up. he chokes on a broken sob, "peter, i can't go there-" his dad. what would his dad think? he'd say scott was right- he knows how worthless stiles is more than anyone.   
      "you're not worthless." peter says and leaves no room for argument. he closes the door and he drives to the apartments.   
peter's eyes stay on the road but he offers his hand and it's better than any overwhelming confused attempts to calm stiles that anyone else had tried. he clings to it. bringing it close to his face and pressing against it. "daddy?" he asks and peter almost swerves, stiles voice is meek and hesitant- deliciously innocent despite its source.   
      "yes?"  
      "can i um..." he stops and looks like he's about to cry again.  
      peter eases his tone, "baby what do you need. it's okay."  
      stiles nods, "can i suck on your fingers?" he needs something to distract him from the storm of fear in his head, needs something physical to ground him. having something to bite or lick always helped, he's destroyed more pens than he can count. peters hands are strong but free of calluses. they're what hurt him and make him fall apart.   
he gnaws on them like a teething pup and peter's heart sings a song of protectiveness. to keep stiles safe, that was his purpose now. he accepted it with grace and lust. he dug his fingers harshly into the boy's mouth. "we don't talk to them any more, you understand?"  
stiles whimpered in protest but nodded when peter flashed his eyes. he was almost too pliant, so easily manipulated in fact even peter felt a little guilty. but he also understood stiles better than he understood himself. the boy would let you think you're in charge but he's planned everything in his head a thousand times before it happens. he's cunning, yes, but above all he is tedious. he is hungry.   
and who wouldn't feed a starving wolf?

the days went on in a blended haze. stiles was more needy than ever, attached at the hip didn't cover it. stiles needed to be in his lap twenty four seven. he hadn't regressed or anything like it, he was just touchy, a little depressed if anything. he wouldn't eat, and only left the safety of peters arms for a smoke break every few hours. he'd return and made peter wince with the stench. he looked broken, a bit. like that last little bit of light he had in his heart burnt out with the wolf and cigarette packs.  
      today when peter got home, the boy's eyes were be blurred, red and glassy. he giggled when peter lifted him up, wrapping himself around peter like stiles wasn't nearly six feet tall himself. "what've you gotten into while i was gone?"  
      "i jus' finished a blunt. missed you, daddy." stiles nuzzled helplessly into peter's neck.   
      "i'm never gonna get rid of you am i?" peter laughed, walking the both of them over to the couch.  
      "nope." the boy laughed. "have you uh..."he squirmed uncomfortably on top of the wolf, "talked to anyone?"  
      "no and i don't plan on it."   
      stiles sighed, nodding his head. "good." he left it there, spaced out and with a blissful silly grin on his face as he said, "i think we need to go somewhere."  
      peter liked the sound of that. he also didn't. he liked distance from the pack, he needed to ween stiles off the idea that they'd come to their senses. but he also liked stiles where he could see him, where he can keep him safe. "where?"   
      "i don't know, i just wanna drive somewhere far. beacon hills s' strangling me." stiles mumbled, breathing in to smell the warm scent of the wolf.   
      "i couldn't agree more. that sounds lovely." peter presses a kiss to stiles' head. he knew stiles was too attached to leave, and in an unknown city he'd have nowhere else to go than into peter's arms. derek would be states away. peter hummed into stiles hair, the boy would be his soon enough.   
stiles turned his head up, smashing their lips together with the messiness only a very high stiles could have. peter let the boy distract his worries with frenzied kisses. after all, he was a wonderful distraction himself. one little tug on his hair and-  
      "daddy," forced itself out of his lips like a broken prayer.  
      "we'll drive to new orleans tomorrow morning," peter said, biting the skin on his perfect boy's bruised neck. "i have something to show you."  
      stiles flipped to straddle peter's thighs, rolling his hips sinfully, shaking at the pleasure. "yes, please."  
      peter grabbed the boy's hips harshly, "what's happened to you? you used to be so stuck on never leaving."  
"you did," stiles whimpered. "i'll go anywhere with you." he kissed peter again, like he could give stiles breath and life in his lips. "you're all i've ever wanted."  
"what about when you tried to kill me, love?"   
"what about when you bit my best friend and nearly killed my other one?"  
"touché." peter laughed, stiles shook his head, giggling.   
"we're fucked up, aren't we?"  
"i'd never want it any other way." peter pulled the boy close. stiles fell into him. he wasn't sure there was a way to get out, even if he wanted to.


	12. judgement day

reality came down like a judge's mallet at the hand's of sheriff stilinksi. the attempt to raid stiles' room ended poorly as the cruiser pulled into the driveway as peter and stiles were on their way out the door. duffel bags in hand, they were met with the concerned face of a man jumping to conclusions. "stiles."  
      "dad."  
      "what exactly are you doing? and why the hell is he at my house? on my property, i could fucking shoot you if i wanted to," he says reaching for his belt.   
      "dad! you're being insane."  
      "is this where who you've been with  for the past few months?" he said with a grit in his voice that made stiles head go fuzzy. he'd only heard that voice after his father had a few glasses and let his mind wander to claudia. let his eyes settle on stiles' who's mirrored hers exactly. let that resemblance burn in his stomach with the whiskey and turn into rage.   
      "we have something to take care of..." he paused. "all of us."  
      "don't give me that bullshit, stiles. i know you haven't even been to scott's house in months."  
      "yeah i haven't. this isn't about him, it's about everyone. we need to keep people safe, dad. i have to do this," his voice broke and peter heard his heartbeat, he wasn't lying. peter walked to his car, ignoring the way the sheriffs hands tried to pull him back as if he was anything to the strength of a wolf. peter put all of stiles' things in the trunk. stiles thought this trip would save people. peter's brain went to an elaborate scheme that the pack planted stiles to get peter out of the picture. but that didn't feel right, stiles was as honest with peter as he just was with the sheriff. stiles wanted to be out of beacon hills. he knew he'd hurt someone he cared about and he needed distance to stop the glory peter was trying to breed through stiles' becoming. he wanted blood, like he'd confessed to peter; he didn't want to kill the only burning embers of his past he had left. peter understood and when he came back the scene had turned harsh.   
      "why would i let you go somewhere when you won't even tell me where? how the hell am i supposed to understand that, stiles?!" the sheriff was red in the face and he spat as he yelled. it was drawing attention from the quiet suburban homes surrounding the stilinski's. noah didn't seem to mind, his rage had blinded him.  
      "i'm not asking for permission! i'm going, there's nothing you can do!" stiles' voice was quivering as he pushed his way past his father. noah grabbed the boy's scrawny arm and peter tasted blood in his mouth, his fangs had sunk deep into his tongue and he had to take a second to breathe. he hadn't unwillingly turned since he was a teenager. however, stiles was his wolf's just as much as he was peter's.   
      "i wouldn't do that if i were you, sheriff,' peter growled, flashing his eyes at the man.   
      "don't fucking tell me how to parent my own child!"  
      "well someone has to seeing as you don't feel the need to even ask where he is."  
      "shut up!" stiles screamed. "both of you! i'll be 18 in a week. i'm sorry my childhood was such a fucking inconvenience, dad, but it's over now. i'm leaving." as stiles pulled out of noah's grip, the man's face fell, he gave up. stiles had tears in his eyes and got into the passenger seat without saying a word. peter flashed his eyes as he got behind the wheel.   
      "stiles-"  
      "not now, please." stiles sighed as he rolled down the window, shuffling through his bag until he pulled out a pack of marlboro reds, stuffing one between his lips desperately. peter hated the smell of smoke, he had smelled too much burnt flesh in his life to enjoy even a campfire. he said nothing, just rolled down his window to air out the car.   
      stiles pulled the smoke into his lungs like it would stop the fresh wound in his chest where his dad had been, where his old life was. he hadn't wanted to leave as harshly as he did but it had to be done, noah would never let him go otherwise. the nicotine helped but the tar in his blood was heavy with guilt. he knew it was bad that the moment playing over in his head was the way peter defended him. "i'm sorry...thank you for what you did."   
       the hurt in stiles' voice was clear and peter just extended his hand, stiles grabbed it with his free hand and continued puffing on the fag until they reached the green exit sign. stiles' grip tightened and he chucked the butt of the cig at the sign, red embers flying as they bounced off the lettering reading 'Now Leaving Beacon Hills'.


	13. prayer

the drive was painful. stiles' pack ties were being severed with every mile, what was left of them anyway. he wanted that pain, he was breathing it in like the third blunt he finished as they rolled into the first motel of many. he expected something at least a little classy given peter's family money but it was no better than the glen capri. the thought of that night sent shivers down his spine and he chucked the roach out of his window. 

       peter told him to wait outside while he got the keys, stiles nodded and took the time to sit against the hood of the car, nursing another cigarette. the smoke smelled like the fuses burning into boyd's skin, like gasoline at his feet. he made a promise to scott that night, and he was breaking it. he never wanted them to be apart then, and now they're further than ever. he wasn't even sure if that scott existed anymore, that stiles didn't. he died when the nogitsune slid a katana into scott's stomach. watched his eyes roll back in his head and fed off his pain like heroin. he thinks of peter then, how he loves to let stiles hurt. how he hungers for it. 

       "room 366" peter says, grabbing all of stiles' and his things. stiles nods and shuts the doors behind peter, following him sucking in as much smoke as he could before they reached the door. as he smudged it out with his finger in the ashtray he let the cherry burn away the skin. 

       peter's eyes were on stiles immediately, his concern for the smell of flame and sharp pain the boy was sweating met with the empty eyes of a child dying. he felt guilty as he opened the creaking door, watching stiles walk in with his head low and reeking of smoke and despair. peter worried that it was his fault, like he had taken the yellow ivy covered young heart of a hopeful boy and tore into it with fangs leaving it barely beating as it bled black blood. he was here now though, he'd keep this boy alive for anything. he knew what stiles could channel this into without destroying himself and even if that meant peter got caught in the crossfire, he was committed. he put the bags down and walked over to the boy, pulling him close. "i'm here."

        stiles smiled sadly, kissing him without much passion, kissing like a thank you. "i'm not even tired," he said like the tragedy it was. he knew he couldn't sleep here, not even with peter. he'd be stuck in exhaustion for hours. 

      peter looked at him and shook his head. "i'm dead, old werewolves need sleep even if human teenagers don't." he laughed, unbuttoning his shirt. "shower?"

      stiles' eyes lit up, "thank god." he smiled and stripped quickly, the shower was actually clean and the water was a little cold but they'd been stuck in that stuffy car for hours. stiles ran in first and peter behind him. 

       the room was steamy and stiles felt his high fogging his head with peter's skin sliding against his as he massaged his tense muscles. peter's hands in his wet hair were godly, even if it made him feel childish when peter began shampooing his head, it made his face flush even when his legs were covered in goosebumps from the just not warm enough water. "peter,' he gasped as peter pulled his hair back to wash out the shampoo. 

      "ssh baby," peter pressed kisses along his neck, both of them under the spray of the showerhead, stiles spun around to meet the wolf's lips. he whimpered as peter wrapped his arms around stiles' narrow waist, hoisting him against the cold tile. he buried his teeth in stiles' neck, blood running quickly down his chest and stomach, mixing with water and running down the drain. stiles hips bucked up and peter's quickly prepped the boy as he brought his bloody, sharp toothed kisses to meet stiles' salty, tear soaked raw lips. 

      "fuck me," the boy whimpered into peter's mouth, rolling his hips up to force peter's fingers deeper inside him, "fuck!" 

      peter brought one hand off stiles' hips and pinned his neck, his other out of him and keeping him up as he shoved himself into him. he didn't move, stiles was shaking and clawing at peter's bare chest like he was going mad. not until the tears stopped and he started wiggling, desperately, gorgeously, his milky skin stretched against the checkered tile, dripping and bloody. his eyes and lips rimmed red and swollen. big brown irises full of tears as he whimpers helplessly, "daddy please."

      peter fucked into him harshly, stiles gasped and peter tightened his hold on the boy's neck, he was pushing against him like even that wasn't enough. "you're mine now, pup. fuck...baby?'

       "y-yes?" stiles began humping up and down trying to fuck himself on peter's cock. "g-ah! harder daddy, please."

       "can i knot you, i know you need it, god you're dripping for it. my perfect little wolfslut you're built for it."

       "yes yes! please knot me, daddy. peter now, please." stiles was sobbing and peter pulled out, carrying stiles as he dripped now freezing water and threw him onto the bed, flipping him onto his stomach, yanking his nearly limp body up and shoving himself back in. peter's vision was red, he could feel his claws coming out of his nail beds, fangs sinking into his bottom lip, he growled and he could feel his knot swelling. 

       it was the most intense thing stiles had ever felt, he was limp and he felt like for once his brain was silent, lost in the feeling of peter fucking him like it was the last thing he'd ever do. the knot was stretching him and it hurt but as it locked inside him, he came. 

       peter shoved into stiles one last time and sank his canines into his shoulder, cum filling up stiles like a claim. stiles was shaking, humping against his knot and crying. "fuck, fuck, fuck, peter- i can't ohmy-" his knees buckled and another moan was punched from his gut. he came again, leaking all over already cum covered thighs, the sight itself made peter unconsciously twitch his hips up, forcing the knot even further into the boy who just sobbed at the stretch. peter laid the boy down, easing him onto his side. 

       "how long does this take?"

       "go to bed."

       "yes sir."


	14. blood moon

grimy city streets, puddles of neon light and littered pavement. it was crowded, stiles much preferred to stay huddled up in the motel getting high than accompanying peter on his burger king run. as the smoke wafted through the room, stiles remembered foggy summer days with scott. he'd green out a few hours into his edible while stiles smoked like a chimney on the top of the roof. it was so easy then, before he turned and before all of this mess. it was pointless to dwell on that now, though. now stiles had plead his heart to the man who took those easy freshman days away with gnashing teeth filled with the venom of wolves.   
      it wasn't just peter who took his childhood from him. his mom's death turned a young boy into a man with a heart of ice and the wide eyes of a scared kid. the nogitsune took his innocence with the blood of friends stuck over his own palms, his face the one conducting genocides of innocent people. the endless flood of deaths and mystery clouding any vision of comfortable suburbia he'd known.   
      he could never live a normal life now. not with a past full of bodies and guilt. he'd chosen this path, the path of peter. with him he knew he was cared for and protected. but he'd never be loved, not truly, not like derek did. that was comforting. he could never let peter down because peter didn't expect anything, only for stiles to release the reins and let him lead. and, after years of flailing in the wind and screaming for direction in a chaotic world, peter did just that.  
      as he walks into the motel, bags of greasy fast food in hand, stiles smiles. he hops off the bed and onto peter. "missed you," he sighed into the older man's chest.   
      peter chuckled and sat down the bags, now holding stiles by his waist. "i wasn't gone for more than 40 minutes."  
      "47, actually, but i can still miss you can't i?" stiles laughed, bringing his hands to peters hair, tugging on it gently as he played with the salt and pepper strands.   
      "of course, pup." peter brought stiles close and kissed him breathless, he was leeching the pain that stained the young boy's heart. peter clouded his fears of himself with hot, bloody lips and head-spinning desire as he pressed the scrawny boy into the mattress.   
      "wait-"   
       peter pulled off, "what is it, darling?  
      stiles giggled, "i wanna eat before it gets cold."  
      peter sighed and climbed off him. "you're gonna pay for that, you little tease." he nipped at stiles' neck earning a soft whimper.   
      "yes sir," stiles voice dropped into that gorgeous, meek little whisper he fell into when peter dropped his fangs.   
      "you're killing me," peter smiled and unpacked the food. stiles really always needed to be shoving something into his mouth and a triple decker baconator was no exception to his tenacity, and his munchies. after stuffing himself with french fries and a milkshake (then half of peter's), stiles flops back onto the mattress.   
"peter i'm pregnant."  
"i doubt that," peter gathered the trash and threw it away, smiling at the boy rubbing his hands happily over his bare stomach.   
"mmm i don't know. this food baby is at least in the second trimester."  
peter laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through stiles' hair. "your hair's getting long, baby."  
stiles opened his eyes, wide and pleading. "want me to get it trimmed?"  
"no, not yet." peters voice was sinking, he was towering over stiles. the wolf's grip on his hair tightened. "it's nice to have something to grab on, isn't it?"  
"uh huh," he smiled, wiggling under peter's icy gaze.   
stiles brought his hands to peter's neck, awkwardly pulling the beta on top of him. he went in to kiss him but peter yanked him back by his hair. "not so fast. if i do remember..." peter flipped one of his claws out and traced it lightly over stiles' shirt. "you were being an awful tease earlier."  
"sorry," stiles said in a gasp as the claw sliced open his shirt, leaving a long thin scratch down his chest.   
"that's not good enough." peter gave him a smile full of fangs and stiles felt his dick twitch in his jeans, earning a scoff from the wolf. "is it the wolf that gets you going? or is the fear?"  
"both," stiles rolled his hips up against the clawed hand that made its way to his zipper. "god, peter," he brought his hand to the wolf's fang and pricked his finger, rubbing the wound on peter's tongue, watching the dark red spread over the older man's tongue.  
      "oh honey," he says gently, then there's darkness clinging to his words, "teases don't get what they want." he pulls away completely and stiles entire body goes rigid.   
      he feels he got splashed with cold water, but he's still hot. he's sweating and grinding against nothing, he pleas a soft, "daddy" as he feels tears filling his eyes.  
      peter's heart jumped in his chest at the sight of his boy so desperate, but he kept his cool. "none of that. we have work to do."  
      stiles' head was foggy and his blood was still singing for the wolf in front of him. "w-what do you mean?" stiles sputtered, sitting up.   
      peter took pity on him, gathering the boy up in his arms. stiles, cradled on his lap with those bambi eyes, was especially gorgeous tonight. the red neon lights from the motel sign cast heavy on his milky skin, crystal tears dotting his cheeks flushed pink. peter kissed his forehead, rocking him gently. "i hoped you'd want a little practice." peter lifted his leg and pulled something out of his pocket.  
      when stiles saw the sheath he felt dizzy. peter slid the curved blade out, the metal glinting with cherry glow. he knew this wasn't for peter, he could make out the engraved S.S on the handle of the dagger. he didn't hesitate, "thank you," he reached out and peter placed it in his hands. it was light, easily maneuvered. the hook at the end was a nice touch, it acts like a claw, sinking and tearing all at once.   
      peter smiled and kissed him again. "until i can get you what you truly deserve, mon amour."  
      stiles giggled a bit and kissed peter, biting his lip ever so slightly.   
      peter grabbed him by his chin. "one day, we'll have our own pack. i'll be an alpha again..." peter set down the blade and began playing with stiles' hair. "you'll be a most perfect beta for me, and no one will ever underestimate us again. no one will ever hurt you."  
stiles smiled, "i don't need a pack. i just need you." the boy looked up into peter's eyes. "i wanna be good for you, i'm ready."  
"of course you are. let's begin."


	15. indulge

stiles' heartbeat was through the roof, he could feel it pounding against his ribcage like a trapped bird. peter explained their plan, how they'd get away, where they'd burn the evidence but most importantly, how it would happen. the drive had stiles' mind racing, his breathing heavy and broken.   
peter sensed it, hell he probably couldn't ignore the sounds. he put a hand on stiles', "easy, pup. i won't let anything bad happen."  
stiles prayed that was true. he didn't want his father to find his body, he wanted to rid the people he had loved of the burden of himself. he wanted to live the life peter had been promising, find a new pack, have a new home where people saw him-respected him. feared him. 

stiles stood by the highway, clad in the skimpiest short shorts he could find, ripped fishnets and a bright red crop top. he leaned against the street lamp, facing away from the passing cars with his thumb out. he smoked a few cigarettes as he waited, his eyes flickering back to where peter stood hidden in the tree line. it made him feel safe, knowing that the second someone tried something peter'd have their throat between his teeth before stiles could blink. 

picking up a hitchhiker meant you expected the best of people, or you were the worst of people. the monsters that favored easy, sleazy pray. that was who stiles wanted to target. he passed up three minivans with young mothers offering him a ride, a place to stay. they reminded him of his mom, of melissa, their wide empathetic eyes felt like a mockery of the brutality he was planning on committing.   
then, he showed up. he was in his mid twenties, average height with dark hair. scruff dotted his face and carved out sharp cheekbones. he had light green eyes speckled with flints of gold. he reminded stiles too much of his moon blessed love. but those irises didn't hold roses, they were predatory, cold. like peter's. he had a gravelly voice that smelled like cheap whiskey and tobacco.   
"where ya' headed sweetheart?"   
stiles smiled, opened the door. "nowhere. you busy?"   
the man smiled. exposing browning teeth. "i don't have anywhere to be."  
"pull off the side, there's a maintenance road on the side of the exit. it's 20 for an hour of whatever you'd like."  
"you're a cheap whore darling, you could get men to spend hundreds. i'm joe."  
stiles smiled, extending his hand. "i'm scott."   
stiles said nothing and the man pulled away. away from the highway lights and peering eyes. down the road with the broken chain. a minute until they reached the dead end, the man turned his truck off. that moment stiles slid across onto the man's lap. he began kissing his neck, his large hands found their way onto stiles' ass. stiles kept his eyes open, gazing up until he rolled his hips down and the man's eyes fluttered shut. that second stiles slid his hand into his back pocket and reached for the blade peter gave him. he flicked his hips again, sitting up. he grabbed his hair, pulling his neck back.   
everything slowed down after that. the blade in his hands felt heavy and he dug the hook into his dark skin. it sliced the flesh and stiles felt himself laugh but he couldn't hear it. he only heard the heavy beat of his heart and the gurgled gasps of the man now trying to wrap his hands around stiles' throat. stiles let out a soft moan at the contact before pushing the blade into the man's chest. right through the heart. in that moment, he felt higher than he ever had in his life, buzzing with power. he imagined this was how scott felt when the bite started to take, how allison felt when she shot arrows into isaac and erica, how lydia or malia when they finally managed to hone their powers. in that moment, weak, defenseless stiles, was the one to be feared. he was god.  
it wasn't but a few seconds after the man went limp beneath him that stiles felt peter pull him out of the driver's seat. he could feel peter sit him onto the hood of the car, but he was out of his own body. he could feel how hard he was as it pressed against the painfully tight shorts.   
peter noted many things about stiles, all of them made his chest swell with pride. he was shaky, but smiling widely, his face flushed. the boy was rolling like he was on ecstasy, he began grinding against peter like a dog in heat. seeing stiles like that, covered in blood with his pupils blown to the size of moons, peter couldn't help the his fangs from dropping out of his gums. couldn't help pressing stiles against the hood of the man's car and fucking him right there.   
he ripped the sleazy clothes off of him with his claws, stiles gasped, grabbing peter's clawed hand and sinking it into his chest. peter growled loudly, yanking his hand out and using it to grab stiles' hair. "fuck, baby, you did so good-so fucking good. tell me how you did it." peter shoved himself into the boy who'd moaned and laughed.   
"climbed on him," stiles pulled peter closer to him, wrapping his legs around the man's waist. "got him hard." stiles grabbed his knife off the hood, pressing it against peter's neck, "slit his throat...he tried to choke me, then i stabbed him in the heart."   
peter moaned, fucked into stiles as hard as he could against the truck of their victim. he grabbed stiles by the neck, the moment he pressed down stiles spilled over their stomachs, onto peter's shirt. peter sunk his teeth into his bared neck as he finished inside him, his mind filled with visions of the two of them bathed in blood, standing on top of a pile of burning bodies.


	16. scars

after the hunt, stiles felt a guilt different than he remembered when he killed donavan. this was shame, he didn't feel bad about what he did but there was still a bubbling of anxiety when he remembered how easy it was to just give in. It scared him still but peter made it easier.   
he was on cloud nine after they discarded the body, they went home and cleaned up, fucking again and then peter took him out. dressed him up in a steamed suit and they ate on top of some bougie restaurant stiles couldn't pronounce the name of. it was perfect, and the red wine may have tasted like iron but stiles ignored it. he favored listening to peter brag about how good he was and how beautiful he would be as a wolf. it made him feel powerful for the first god damn time in his life and he felt himself itching for it. the new addiction was forming and multiplying in his cells and he loved it. peter was the only person in the world he could feel like this with. get this high with.   
peter was immune to human drugs but there were many things more magical that could alter his reality. they tripped on a fairy fruit as they drove through new mexico. leaving their first kill thousands of miles away, loosing their minds in the desert and giving up all boundaries. peter pried through years of stiles' traumas on their long rides, making a personal list of people they'd need to kill for his boy to sleep easy (and therefore, peter to sleep as well).   
      They fucked too much, stopping every few hours off their path for a quickie. stiles was exhausted but it was the best distraction from the dread he felt about his life. how had he gotten wrapped up in a bonnie and clyde road trip with the man who ruined his life, who killed derek's sister, who did all of those horrible things to lydia... but it didn't feel weird anymore.  
      stiles was attached at the hip, like if he was an inch away from peter he'd drown. how had he let himself get this far? stiles knew that answer, the bloodlust was real. it was like a drug, the fuck after a kill had been the best sex of his life and nothing was better than peter's eyes when he tore out somebody's throat with no remorse. stiles was high as a kite through it all and peter took care of him like a real boyfriend, or a father. carrying him into the motel room when he falls asleep in the car, washing him after kills when he dissociates himself from the world. eyes null of life and obeying peter's instructions without a hint of hesitation, like he's a ghost. peter talks him through it, tucks him into bed and holds him while tears fall out of his eyes. eventually the exhaustion catches up and he'll fall asleep.   
      by the time they made it to louisiana, stiles felt like anyone he had been before they killed the first man, was dead too. stiles couldn't stand his name anymore, whenever he'd heard it slip out of peter's lips he cringed in memories of scott and his dad and lydia and everyone he left. peter only called him baby now. it was easier.   
      "baby, c'mere."  
      stiles walked out to the balcony of one of their nicer hotels. peter was waiting outside, dressed nicely with the coastline crashing behind him . "yeah?"  
      "i got you something."  
      stiles questioned him, but smiled. peter dropped down onto his knee, pulled out a large blood red diamond bigger than anything stiles had ever seen, circled with engravings of wolfsbane. stiles gasped, the world crashing around him but the apocalypse seemed beautiful. they'd be together forever, peter would turn him.  
the red looked like roses.  
his heart stopped.   
derek was all he could think of, his big green eyes, would he wait through a marriage ? stiles couldn't do that to him. he couldn't force him to date either, as if that was even half the problem. derek would never love him now, if he knew the things he'd done, the people he's hurt. it hurt, it felt like he was taking a sledgehammer to his own life and shattered it into a thousand irreparable pieces. he did.   
      there was only one thing keeping him alive; peter who was staring at him like there wasn't one other person in the world he'd do this for.   
      "peter-"  
      "hold on... baby, i love you. i have never wanted anything in the world as much as i want you, i wanted to wait until i'm an alpha again but i can't i need you to say yes before i turn you."  
      "peter," stiles was crying and he couldn't tell if they were happy tears. he couldn't say the word. he just let himself fall into peter's arms and kiss him.   
      "is that a yes?"  
       every remaining reasoning he had screamed no, no, no. he stuttered, "y-yes."   
        peter kissed him again, stiles kept crying.


	17. oracle dreams

it all came crashing down when they reached new orleans. the tropical storms swirled around them, closing in with precision before causing mass destruction. wrecking whatever hell they had built for themselves. the gates to their underworld were moss covered and smelled like the murky waters of algae coated marsh.  
their hotel was dingy, stiles noticed this and when they checked in under alias of father and son, he felt nauseous. peter's hand on his back was the only thing keeping him on earth. without it he would've faded into that horrendous wallpaper.   
he finally lost his mind in the smeared neon of the new orleans coast. peter dragged him to some voodoo priestess and discuss in a language stiles couldn't quite guess.   
"and who is this, peter?" she stared at him and stiles now realized the distinct whiteness of her irises. her long dreads coated in gorgeous clay and threads. her smile though, as peter introduced stiles as his boyfriend, it was sharp. unlike peter's extended canines, all her teeth were neatly filed to points and her split tongue snaked though them.   
stiles smiled and reached a hand out, but the second their skin touched her white irises went completely black. she seized, peter pulled stiles away while lo regained herself.   
"baby," she cried like a plea. "you are the dark father's now." she reached out to rub his face, shaking her head "you were such an innocent child."   
stiles felt his eyes begin to water, "i-i" she was crying, she sounded like his mom when her throat got heavy with tears. what would claudia think of her son now? the thought made stiles queasy. even if there was a heaven, stiles would never see his mom again, his heart was black and covered in the blood of everyone he'd hurt. he wondered if his own heaviness was dragging derek down, even when he was hundreds of miles away. when peter grabbed him, stiles understood peter was his own personal devil. heroin to the powerless human, peter indulged in every part of the person stiles was and hated. the death and darkness of beacon hills took any goodness out of them: peter brought stiles into a world of savage bloodlust. lo was right, stiles was innocent, but his heart was full of death and it had been that way since his mom got sick. he died with her, and she died thinking stiles was the one killing her. so did he.  
"baby." peter nearly growled, "time to go. thank you lo," peter practically dragged stiles out while lo was still screaming to him, now in that language he didn't even recognize. his brain was fuzzy with the confusing events, lo's eyes as they flicked from ice to complete abyss. her voice deepening as she gasped. she was an oracle, that was his guess. but what the fuck did she mean about dark father?   
he questioned peter, who brushed it off as voodoo nonsense. "she's a talented potion maker and healer. but she's no oracle, baby. she's just batshit from the years of magic herbs."   
\---  
they spent the rest of the day drinking at some wolf owned bar on the edge of the city. peter told him to wear one of his v-necks, exposing his claiming mark and making sure everyone knew- either by sight or smell- that stiles was peter's.   
      he felt like a piece of meat, in a bar full of feral omegas and alphas who's red eyes never left the wound on his neck. he clung to peter in fear and  drank until he blacked out. an irish mourning of his mother and the person he could have been; the one his father used to believe in, that derek could have loved. the last thing stiles remembered was a hazy image of lo's black eyes and the rumble of an engine.   
\----  
      ruby soaked and shaking, stiles was covered in blood that was not his. it was like he checked back in to reality, the last thing he remembered was pulling into the parking lot of a motel in the city. now, he was standing above the limp corpse of a man he didn't recognize. he was surrounded by the tall, drooping swamp trees hung encased in the last light of the day as it scattered across the bayou. the boy was white and scrawny, long curly blonde hair. his body was mangled by claw and teeth marks, littered with dripping lacerations stiles remembered as he felt the weight of the knife peter gave him between his fingers.   
      he collapsed on the dirt, dry heaving into the mud, shaking as he sobbed. the air was heavy with the smell of rotting flesh and wood. after a few minutes of gagging and coughing up nothing but bile, he fell onto the wet ground . curling up into a ball, he was freezing but his tears burned down his face. the kid looked like isaac. that kid could've been a teenager... that kid could've had a family. this was different than the pervert who tried to buy his time on the highway, different than donovan, different than allison. an innocent killed but this time, stiles was the one calling the shots.   
      peter's silhouette appeared in the tree line, stiles felt peter's footsteps send him spiraling into panic. the forest swirled around him, losing all grip on his balance and breath. he dug into his back pocket until he found the dagger.  
       peter could smell fresh blood. stiles had to be quick. no matter how fast he could've been, the second the knife sunk into his forearm peter was running to him. stiles cut as deeply, as far, as he could. he moved to the other arm but by then, peter had him in a headlock. he kicked the dagger out of stiles' hands , his fist colliding with the boy's face.   
the incision hurt like fire under his skin but when he saw a clawed hand swinging toward him, he relaxed and let himself wade into the black.


End file.
